Love Kills {Sterek}

Epilogue

Stiles:

Stiles sat uncomfortably upright in the truck as it - seemingly hitting every bump in the road - drove for the fourth, maybe fifth hour straight.

"I've gotta piss," Stiles grumbled, relaxing his neck slightly.

His remark was met with silence - all but the low static from the beat up radio.

"Y'know, the same thing I've had too do for the past hour or so," he said growing more agitated.

"Para el coche," a rough voice from his right called out. Stiles felt the truck coming to a slow stop, tight hands gripping his bicep and yanking him to the dirt covered road. He was dragged upright and pulled further from the road before a hand came around to his crotch.

Stiles violently jerked away, turning to where he presumed the person to be standing. "I know-o how to-o remove-o mis pantalones, bitch-o."

Stiles' right cheek was hit with a spiteful slap, pushing him forcefully into the rough dirt below. He brought his cheek to his shoulder - seeing as his hands were tied behind his back - in an attempt to stop the searing pain.

"Your lucky I'm not supposed to hurt you," the man said, yanking Stiles up and forcefully opening his jeans at the crotch. "Too bad, that is."

Stiles relieved himself and thought quickly and thoroughly. He was still a Shade, a Shadar at that, at least according to the dicks who took him.

Alright, Stiles, if your still the Shadar, he thought to himself, mentally cheering himself on as the man went to zip Stiles back up, then you should be able to do it. Get yourself out of this.

Stiles whipped his head backwards and, with full force, swung it forward, connecting with the man's temple, sending him to the ground unconscious.

"Ah, fuck me," Stiles grumbled, making quick work in getting the rope around his hands untied. He yanked the blindfold off of him and raised his hand to cover his eyes, letting them slowly adjust to the light the orange sky of a late evening provided.

How the fuck do they know I'm still a Shadar. I didn't even fucking know th- Stiles says, reality hitting him like a bus on a highway.

He wasn't a Shadar, not anymore. Their words were meant to confuse them all. He wasn't a Shadar, and now he's in deep shit.

Stiles heard muffled voices coming from the direction of the truck, but he wasn't waiting for them to catch up. He grabbed the holstered pistol on the man's side and began sprinting through the unfamiliar wildlife.

Derek:

Derek sulked around the McCall living room - their temporary Pack meeting place. Stiles knew it would happen, or at least had a clue about it. He wasn't scared when they came, his emotions - those that sent the chemical words through their mate bonds - were of love and calmness.

"How are we going to get him back?" Isaac asked, his voice broken.

"We can go after them," Lydia suggested. "We can use that sock and track his scent."

"They're traveling by car, not foot. The scent won't be strong enough, even for our Alpha noses," Derek sighed, trying and failing.

"Then how are we supposed to get Stiles back?" Scott asked, sounding equally as broken as Isaac.

Derek, who was trying to remain strong in front of his Pack - for Stiles; his boyfriend, his mate, his everything - stood up straight, tears filing his eyes but not flowing out.

"I don't know," his voice shaky but strong. "But it's going to end with my claws in each of their fucking necks."

* A/N: Well, that's it everyone. Thank you all so much for your support throughout this story, it has been incredible and so much fun to write. The Sequel to this story [Titled: Love Saves (At this point at least)] will be out either later this week or next week. If you already haven't please take a look at my new story The Cult. Please give that story a chance and tell me what you think of it, your ideas are also welcome.

Thank you all so much for the support in this story. <3 *